The Boy Who Never Got Laid
by Lethargic Pineapple
Summary: Matthew Williams is at a party, and totally smitten with this Katya girl. He wants some action, but he slowly comes to realise that it's never gonna happen. Or will it? Cankraine with a side of everything else and Netherlands in the trunk.
1. NICE TITS

There was something about Katya that made Matthew want to never look away from her, and no, it wasn't the tits.

He leaned against the wall, cheap beer in hand, at some stupid party that his foreign exchange cousin from France had dragged him to. It had gotten so humid in the cramped room filtered with the thick July air; Matthew had to take off his trademark red hoodie. Now, he looked like half the guys in the room, (the ones who were still fully covered) with his white cotton t-shirt.

And then he saw her. She was angelic. She bit her lip with nervous eyes as she talked to another girl, staring into her own plastic cup of beer that no self-respecting Canadian would ever drink.

He couldn't unglue his face from her eyes. Big, round, timid and sky blue, and the most beautiful set of peepers he'd ever had the pleasure to see. He took a step forward, planning to find his way over there to talk to her, but stopped immediately after that; because a.)he was male, and b.)she was female.

So there he stood, perfectly still, nevertheless staring at her, with a face that could only be accurately described as a "what do" face.

And then something either really bad or really good happened. She turned around, surveying the room, and made eye contact with Matthew.

They stood. They stared. Matthew almost took a sip of his beer, but then he remembered what he was doing. She snorted. Matthew was in love. Katya was amazed and flattered he was watching her face and not her boobs. The world had stopped moving.

That was, until some guy randomly started to grind up against Katya, fondling the place any self-respecting woman would really hate to be fondled by a stranger.

Matt dropped his running joke of a beverage, pushing through the thick and crowded living room. His glasses were knocked to the ground. By the time he found his way to where Katya was standing across the room, she had the douche pinned against a nearby couch, her knee on his back, and her hands holding his arms in place behind him.

Matthew didn't think the woman could get more amazing, but this had proven him wrong.

She noticed him, and craned her neck to meet his eyes again. She smiled sheepishly, "I appreciate you rushing over here to save me." She let go of the man, kicking him in the back as he tried to scamper off. "That's happened a lot before, and nobody ever made the effort to do anything."

She turned towards him. They were about the same height. "Hi," she grinned, "I'm Katya and can you see okay without your glasses?"

"Hi," he replied sheepishly, "and not really."

She looked over his shoulder, cringing as she caught a glimpse of the crushed spectacles. "Well then, this is no place for you to be!" She tangled their fingers together, and pulled him along. They both blushed at the touch as she led him to the door.

"I have a spare pair in my car," he added, "you'd be surprised how often this sort of stuff happens."

She snorted again.

They made it out of the house, into the cool-but-humid weather. She stopped. "Which one's yours?"

He pointed to the left, "A white minivan down that way a bit."

When they found it after a bit of walking, he took his keys out, unlocked the car, and leaned into the van, trying to get his spare glasses out of the door pocket on the opposite side of the car.

Meanwhile, Katya took the opportunity to take a few innocent glances at his ass.

He whipped back up after finding them, standing up straight and eerily close to Katya.

"Hi."

"Hi."

She smiled some more, leaning even closer than already-a-bit-too close.

Her breasts pushed on his chest, as breasts that big are prone to do.

He stammered incoherently, his body freezing, his face flushing.

As her arms wrapped around his neck, her hands interwove themselves in his chin-length waves. Matthew was blushing from ear to ear; his thoughts were racing in anticipation. One would normally look away if they were as embarrassed as he was, but his gaze was permanently locked to Katya's eyes, which were half-lidded and almost seductive.

His heart was pounding like the sound of a car playing rap music with its bass turned up all the way. Before her face could get any closer to his, he took a bold move, and locked their lips, in a fury of embarrassment and spontaneity.

And then they made out in the passenger seat of a minivan. The sex appeal the setting adds makes it almost zero times more sensual.

"Whoa," said Matthew after coming up for air. "Whoa."

Matt was the kind of guy who would never see a pair of tits and be a virgin until he was like thirty and got bitches because he was like a CEO or something. However, the definition of a Matthew might have to be rewritten because he was probably about to get laid as a sophomore in college by a woman who didn't even know how much money he had, which by the way was none.

Of course, something cock-blocking just _had _to happen. That preventative action against coitus was none other than the local pot guy sitting in the back seat of the minivan.

"Matt… who is sitting in the back over there?" asked Katya. Matt sat up and stared at the local pot guy.

"Lars, what the hell are you doing in my car?" said Matt to the local pot guy. The local pot guy, Lars van Houten, was never seen smoking pot, he only distributed it as a part of his job as local pot guy. His hair was thoroughly gelled to stand straight up, and he had a scar on his forehead that occasionally disappeared. Nobody really thought anything about it, and some would say the scar only came/left if one was high.

Lars sighed. "I'm camping out in here because I'm hiding from Ivan's crazy sister."

"Ivan _Braginski_'s sister?"

"Yeah, that's her."

She frowned. "Yeah, if I were you I'd be hiding from her, too. But I'm Ivan and Natalia's eldest sister, so I have to keep an eye on them," she turned to Matt to explain,  
>"My siblings are both batshit insane."<p>

"So wait," Matt interjected, "How the flying fuck on a French fry did you get in my car?"

"You left the doors unlocked, stupid," said Lars. He opened the minivan's trunk. "So, I'll just leave you two alone and go hide in my sister's car instead. She's probably gonna need a designated driver anyways."

Matt and Katya resumed making out about three seconds after the trunk slammed shut, and just got further into their little world. Katya took his shirt off, and he slipped his hands down farther, inching toward her butt which was probably as glorious as the rest of her body.

And then a scream came from behind.

"!" yelled a crackly female voice.

Katya turned around, seeing her younger sister running towards her while buck naked with red paint all over her body, followed by her brother who was carrying Natalia's clothes and a sponge.

When Natalia reached her sister, she stopped to breathe for a second before talking. "Where is van Houten? Must. Kill. Pot. GUY!"

Katya, without missing a beat, said, "I haven't seen him."

"Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiillll."

"No. No killing. Put your clothes on."

Natalia ran off again, in search of the local pot guy. Unluckily for Lars, she went in the general direction of his sister's car.

And then Ivan came up. "Katya," pant, "Sister," pant, "crazy."

"I'm aware."

Ivan looked around Katya to see Matt.

"Why are you straddling that guy on the hockey team?"

"'Cause he's hot."

Ivan stared at Matt again. "If you do anything to hurt my sister's feelings I will sic Natasha on you." He turned and ran after Natalia. "Сестра! Иди сюда пожалуйста! У тебя слишком пить!"

And then a camera flash. Matt blinked. It was Kiku the Honda and his Nikon of doom.

Matt realized that he was not, in fact, going to lose his virginity tonight after all.

"Hello," said Kiku, "I love taking pictures of people in compromising conditions."

Matt tried using his outdoor voice, "Then go take pictures of Arthur or something. He's probably drunk and pretty compromised by now."

"Oh, no," explained Kiku, "I already have killer footage of him. He's been with your cousin all night.

"Who? Francis, Angelique, or Al?"

Kiku made a funny face that suggested it was probably all of the above.

Kiku left.

"You know, Kat," started Matthew, putting his shirt back on, "How about I just take you home?"

She snorted. "That sounds good."

He shifted over to the driver's seat, letting Katya scoot into the passenger's seat with more ease. He stuffed his car keys into the keyhole with a somewhat frustrated jerk, and turned them with a sigh.

"I'm sorry," said Katya, "Crazy things always seem to happen around me."

"Don't worry; you're not alone on that one. I'm a regular shenanigans magnet." He pulled out of his spot behind a Sedan and started down the street. He heard a bit of muffled screaming from somewhere outside the car, and chose to ignore it. But then, as surely as the world goes around, something hit the car.

Or rather, someone. Matt, who had slammed on the breaks as soon as he heard something hit, saw the squished face of the local pot guy's face on the back window. Behind him was a still naked, still raging Natalia. Lars opened the trunk and got in and yelled at Matthew to step on it. He did. But he still went the speed limit. Unless Natalia suddenly had rocket skates, he doubted she could go 25.

Later, quite a bit later in fact, Matt was taking the liberty of dropping Lars off first. He decided that maybe, if he got a bit more alone time with Katya, he just might get laid. The local pot guy lived, ironically, in the gayborhood part of Toronto known as Church Street. It was ironic because he wasn't gay (or so Matt thought).

He attempted to make a lighthearted joke about this. "So Lars," began Matt, "Living the alternate lifestyle?"

"Yes, in fact," replied the local pot guy. There was not a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Wait, seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. Do you even know for how long I was hoping that you were gay too? You had no idea all this time?"

"Oh, geez. I'm sorry, Lars." He glanced apologetically to the Dutch man in the trunk.

"Nah, I'm totally over you. I think it was mostly just your ass, anyways."

"It is nice," added Katya.

Matt and his soccer-mom mobile pulled up into Lars' driveway. Another car was there that was neither Lars' nor his sister's. Lars recognized it.

"Oh shit, son. Antonio's here. And that probably means his whiny husband is here too, which means they probably brought home Belle and her girlfriend which probably means that the girlfriend's male fag-hag is there which means that his brother is there which means that_ his_ brother is there."

"One, two, three… Seven people can't fit in a sports car, Lars," Matt deadpanned.

"They'll find a way."

Matt gave the local pot guy a Look. A look that said, "don't be ridiculous, you bitchface."

"Wait, Belle van Houten?" asked Katya.

"Yeah," said the local pot guy, "My sister."

"I went to high school with her. She tried to pick me up on several occasions."

"Yeah, if you're breathing she's gonna do that."

Lars got out of the car. He looked around, seemingly for any rabid Natalias on the loose, and proceeded to walk inside. And then walked right back out. He opened the trunk door with an unamused look on his face and sat back down behind the back row of seats.

"Antonio was in there having a domestic dispute with Lovino who was trying to get Belle to take her shirt off who was trying to get Elizaveta to take her shirt of who was too busy yelling drunkenly at Roderich who was drowning his sorrows in beer while Ludwig was trying to keep Gilbert from drowning his penis in beer."

Matt blinked. "So you really can fit seven people into a sports car."

"Just so you know, I'm crashing at your place tonight."

"Lovely."

Matt dropped Katya off at her house. He was sad that he wasn't getting any action tonight, but hey, at least he knew where she lived. He decided to try his best to forget the address as not to seem like a stalker. He went home and the local pot guy crashed on his couch. Weeks went by with nothing happening, and the new term started at Matt's college. He walked into Sociology on Tuesday morning to a pleasant surprise.

"Katya?"

"Matt?"

"Katya!"

"Matt!"

They realized that it was ten minutes until class started, so they decided to go to the janitor's closet and fuck. And this is the story of how Matthew finally got laid.


	2. HE'S BURNING OUR PANCAKES

Matthew woke up one morning to find that there were a lot of things wrong with the picture in his apartment. Katya, as usual, was sleeping peacefully next to him, but when he stepped into the living room, her crazy sister Natalia was passed out on the couch, and the local pot guy was in the kitchenette making pancakes.

He wondered what happened. He didn't have any hangover symptoms, so drinking could not have been the cause.

"Lars, what are you doing here and what in the fuck is Nat doing on the couch?" he asked tiredly. Nevertheless, he took a pancake off the stack and bit into it without any thought of a plate.

The local pot guy, as an answer, grunted as he flipped another pancake. He made a face that said, "Does it look like I remember?"

"Okay, this might be just a theory," started Matt, "But maybe you and Nat got high and-slash-or drunk, hooked up, and came back here in the middle of the night because I apparently left my door unlocked or something?"

The local pot guy grunted again. Matt had nailed it, apparently.

"Listen," said the local pot guy, "if you don't remember, a couple months ago she was running around buck naked trying to kill me. I highly doubt that, even high and-slash-or drunk, she'd actually want to hook up with me."

Matt picked up his phone and started going through it for any textual evidence. A text from his mom, three from a very tired Al, and…

Bingo.

(Nov 12 1:23 AM) gohsg mattt y is naotlaia so hdot

(Nov 12 1:33 AM) ithinkg im gonna havre sex iwht her

(Nov 12 2:07 AM) danm her vag is tigt ithinj she as a vrign

(Nov 12 2:18 AM) due im a crahs as ur plaee see u latre

"Hate to break it to you, Lars, but you guys had sex somewhere in between 1:30 and 2:00 AM."

The local pot guy dropped his spatula.

Then Katya came into the room with no bra on and shrieked when she saw that there were people other than Matt in the room. She ran out, and came back a couple seconds later in one of Matt's shirts.

Luckily, nobody slipped on the pile of drool on the floor that Matt salivated out after seeing this.

Katya walked over to Natalia and whispered something to her in Russian. "Просыпаться утром чувствоваться П Диддий."

"У меня очки и буду идти в городе," Natalia replied sleepily.

Natalia woke up a bit more and Katya went to go get some pancakes.

"Тик ток на часе DJ взорваться мо—POT GUY," she yelled as she caught sight of the cooking Dutchman. His eyes went wide and he flinched as Natalia neared toward him.

The flinch was for nothing (?) as she only planted a firm kiss on his lips when she reached him. He stood there completely frozen in shock, letting his pancakes burn. One would think he just saw a ghost, or more specifically, just got kissed by a ghost who has tried to murder him on several occasions.

And then the door opened. Alfred Funky town Jones strutted through, wearing a shirt with a Libra sign on it, which was weird because he was a Cancer. He grabbed some pancakes and asked, "What's up?"

"Natalia is in twisted hate-love with Lars and he's BURNING OUR PANCAKES," Matt answered

"Oh, so they're confirmed kismeses then. I must update my shipping wall!" said Alfred Farts Jones.

Katya tried slapping the local pot guy on the face lightly a few times to make him snap out of it.

"I pity him, really," said Matt. Alfred stared at him with a surprised look upon his face.

"More shipping wall updates then! L and M are matesprits." Alfred Fire truck Jones said, scrawling a doodle onto a paper in his notebook. The doodle next to it had stickmen who were apparently Gilbert and Roderich with a spades symbol in between them. Matthew really didn't understand what Alfred meant by all this playing card gibberish.

Al stuffed the last of his pancake into his mouth and left as soon as he came. It took Matt a while to even wonder what his American relative was doing North of the Border.

"Hey, Katya, wanna go on a secret spy mission with me?" he asked his girlfriend excitedly.

"Do we get to wear disguises?" she asked back.

"Of course. No secret spy mission is complete without disguises!"

After becoming thoroughly hat-shades-mustached, the two set out the follow Alfred, who luckily hadn't gotten too far from Matt's apartment. They walked a safe distance behind him, as inconspicuously as two very silly looking lovebirds could possibly be, which was pretty damn conspicuous.

The good news was that Alfred was as dim as a brick, or maybe as dim as someone who got hit in the head by a brick. He didn't notice the two giggling doofuses behind him. Instead, he walked up to the local park, where he met with—get this—Katya's crazy-but-still-less-crazy-than-Nat brother.

Matt and Katya were nothing less than shocked. Last time they checked, these two douchebags hated each other.

(Meanwhile: Natalia and the local pot guy make out on the couch in Casa de Williams; all the while the local pot guy disregards his previously stated sexuality. Natalia also disregards her sexuality of knifesexual stabbingromantic.)

Alfred and Ivan got really close, closing their eyes and nearing their faces into each other. Then Alfred handed over the goods.

"Oh thank god, I thought they were gonna kiss for a second there. I don't need another sibling in psychotic hate-love," said Katya, sighing in relief.

"That's always good, but," Matt blinked, "What does your brother want with American beer? I thought he was on a strictly Russian booze diet. He won't even drink Canadian stuff."

Matt and Katya looked at each other suspiciously and continued to survey the Beer-an Missile Crisis in front of them.

Meanwhile, a couple blocks away, the third and final Slavic sibling was with their very own pet idiot.

"Natalia, last night was a mistake," confessed the local pot guy. "I was high, I don't want to enter a relationship with you. I thought you hated me, anyways."

"I do hate you." Her voice was icy. "But I want your penis. It reminds me of brother's."

The local pot guy's eyes went wide. _Why would she want a penis that reminded her of her brother's? Isn't that a tad, oh, I dunno, fucking creepy?_

"Listen, Nat," the local pot guy sighed. "I'm gay. And personally I don't want to stick my hot dog up your taco just so you can have incest fantasies. I think you need some therapy. Or maybe just a dildo."

"I didn't think of that…" her voice trailed off as she looked to the side and pursed her lips.

Lars bit into a pancake. This woman was creepy.

"Okay. You are my therapist. Come with me to the toy store."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Alfred Fermentation Jones felt that a double facepalm combo was taking place. His senses were fine-tuned like that.

After feeling that twinge of excitement, he handed the goods off to Ivan. It was his home-made cotton candy flavored slurpee, disguised as a bottle of American beer so that nobody would drink it unless they knew what it was.

Ivan's guilty pleasure was these very frozen drinks. He instantly popped the top open and sipped away. Alfred walked away, as he had some shipping wall business to attend to.

After watching that weird exchange and debating theories, Matt and Katya randomly decided to go to the special toy store to spice up their sex life. Yeah, that's right kids, Matt is totally getting some.


	3. PORN PANDA

When Matt and Katya got to the mature gift shop, the guy who asked for ID didn't really believe Matt was over eighteen.

"Nineteen, huh?" said the greasy old man who asked for ID, "You're barely cuttin' it, but I guess an adult is an adult."

"What? You're only nineteen?" asked Katya, staring at Matthew in disbelief.

"Yeah, you and I met at a college party and I _am_ college-aged," he replied, furrowing his eyebrows.

"But I'm thirty! I feel like a cradle-robber. Oh my god. Oh my god. I was only there because my siblings are in college."

The old greasy guy snorted. "There's a little bit of age kink in aisle two."

Nobody but the old greasy guy was amused.

Right then, Natalia and the local pot guy barged in. The local pot guy flashed his license to the greasy guy as he was pulled along by the scary Russian chick. For our two heroes, it would definitely be weird to see your little sister or best friend walk into a porn shop when you're looking for a pair of handcuffs and chocolate condoms.

"Lars?"

"Matt?"

"Sister?"

"Kat?"

"Pot guy?"

"Natalia?"

"Rocky?" said the greasy old man.

Again, nobody was amused by the old man's comments. "There are gold speedos and leather corsets in aisle four."

It should be noted that rule number one of adult stores: never make conversation in adult stores with people whom you are not romantically involved with.

"So, guys," said Matt, breaking rule number one, "What are you doing here?"

"Oh yeah," said Lars, peering over at the gay porn, "we're here to get a dildo for Nat's incest issues."

Matt stared over at his lover. Katya shrugged apologetically. "We've been trying to get someone who will actually put up with her for more than one session."

"I heard that," said Natalia, "The pot guy is my new therapist."

Katya sighed, "_Sestra_, I don't think he's qualified to—"

"On the contrary, I'm working on my Masters in Psychology," said the local pot guy, drifting slightly closer to a magazine called _Men in Tulips._

This time it was Katya who looked over at Matthew questioningly.

Matt shrugged.

The local pot guy was now leafing through _Men in Tulips_.

Natalia, meanwhile, began browsing the dildos ("Aisle three!"), trying to find one that she thought matched her brother's. The local pot guy hoped that she would get over her incestuous desires before too long. He was open to all kinds of pleasure, but that was just wrong. He also knew for a fact her brother was gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide.

"Aha!" called the craziest of the Russians from aisle three. It seems she found a toy that looked like her brother. The local pot guy examined it. It was labeled "Model #2, size Horse."

If this was really the size of her brother, the local pot guy thought he might ask Katya if there were any other gay Russian guys who weren't Ivan in Toronto.

The greasy guy was busy listening. As the owner and sole employee of an adult store, he knew the sex lives of everyone in the city through his vast connections. It was intricate of course. He made bets with other toy store owners like "how many bruises has Jones gotten trying to have sex with Nguyen?" or the more elusive question "when is Edelstein finally going to use that whip, and with whom?"

His bets were seventeen, two months, and Beilschmidt, respectively.

The older Beilschmidt, that was. The younger Beilschmidt was a capital-V Virgin. The younger Beilschmidt was a repeat customer of his. The greasy old man thought he was quite a dirty young lad at only twenty. There was one elusive thing—the greasy man often wondered what younger Beilschmidt fantasized about doing to that cheery also-Virgin who innocently followed him everywhere.

The greasy old man smirked. He loved his job.

The first couple, Lady van Houten's brother and his chick, came up to the register with a very large dildo that he did not think was actually going to fit up that woman's vagina.

After them, Katya and her beau (who, from the looks of it, was probably not very satisfying) put up a pair of handcuffs, some flavored condoms and a really weird looking porno called "Hockey Dick."

The greasy old man had, however, seen weirder. Weirder, in fact, was that _Men in Tulips_ magazine he knew van Houten was going to come back for later.

The fabulously awkward four left the shop to be greeted with the sight of a panda bear running down the street, with several police chasing after it, followed by a guy with a wok. There usually weren't bears running around in the middle of Toronto, so this was a sight to see.

The panda stopped shortly after seeing the four, and stomped over to their spectator's corner, aka in front of the door of the porn shop. The panda grabbed the bag with the dildo with his teeth, tore the bag open and ran away with the dildo in his paw.

It was never seen again.

Much later, after the handcuffs and flavored condoms had been given some use, Katya and Matt sat on their respective sides of his bed, chatting about how weird their lives were and how weird the porno that Matt had just popped in the DVD player was going to be when an idea popped into Matt's head.

"Hey Kat," he said, "Do you wanna move in?"

She raised her eyebrows and turned to him, "We've known each other for four months and you want me to move in?"

"Yes. That was my intention behind the question, Captain Obvious."

"I dunno," she gritted her teeth. "I still have to take care of my siblings because Ivan doesn't have a job and Natalia couldn't pay the rent to our apartment on her own."

Her phone started ringing. She picked it up, greeted the caller and listened for a few seconds.

"You're _what_?" she asked in utter disbelief.

"Really? Damn… But what about… I don't think so… Okay. Alright. Bye."

"What's going on?" asked Matt.

"My brother found a job in Detroit so he's moving down there and he's dropping out of college so now Nat and I have to move and we'd move here but I don't know if there's enough room for three people and oh god because we're barely paying the bills now and AUUUUUUUUUGUHHHHHHHHHHH," Katya explained.

Another call.

"Hi… I know… yeah, I think things like that just happen… But just to be clear you're not… How did you… Sometimes I feel old. Okay. See you tomorrow. Bye."

"What this time?" asked Matt.

"I guess I'm moving in with you."


	4. RANDOM DOIYKES

Matt set down another box with a grunt and a sigh. Katya carried another in with ease while struggling with the phone.

"Sis, I don't see why you have to share a room with him. I mean, it's become fairly obvious that your time with Lars was a one nigh sta—Sister!" she continued to rattle on into the phone, but in very hasty Russian. "Это ты знаешь! Почему у тебя Ларса—"

Matthew wondered why she didn't have any trouble with the boxes. Was she purposely choosing lighter ones so Matt could haul all her heavy shit into his apartment himself, or was she just that strong?

"Продаваться марихуанy! Верка о продавцов говорит-"

He remembered the night previous, and why they now had to buy a new bed.

She was just that strong.

Katya dropped another box in Matt's living room, clicked the phone off after a long rant that, as Matt could decipher, contained the words "stop," "Lars," and "lesbian." Katya had informed him that Natalia was going to move in with the local pot guy when her brother moved to Detroit, but he still wondered what lesbians had to do with it.

He then remembered that Belle van Houten, the pot guy's sister, would fuck anything with a pulse, and was currently dating the childhood nemesis of the guy who skated around as the mascot for the hockey team Matt played with.

It was worth noting that he also played with Katya's brother in high school, and that two players on his current team, Tino and Berwald, were Lars' next door neighbors.

The thing about Matthew's life is that it had a lot of weird interconnected strings that also all connected to hockey.

He called it the Canada virus. No matter what, everything could be linked to hockey.

Days later, after the moving deeds were done, Matthew got a call from the local pot guy.

"Hey, buddy!" squawked the pot guy. His tone sounded forced and awkward, as if the skin on his balls was slowly being ripped off with a potato peeler. Besides, the local pot guy would not ever, _ever, _say something like "hey, buddy."

"Um, Lars?"

"Roll with me here," he whispered. He changed back to his overenthusiastic, fake tone. "So, Natalia thought it would be a super-duper idea if she and I went on a double date with you and Kat! Sound like _fun?"_ He accentuated _fun_ as if he had just been stabbed in the stomach. Knowing Natalia and her crazy knife fetish, it couldn't be ruled out completely.

"That sounds great, Lars," said Matt, "Friday, seven, at that one place with the little miniature apple thingies?"

"What," said Lars flatly.

"Uh, what was their name…? Jeanne's! Yeah, that."

"Okay, sounds _super_!" the phone clicked off. Immediately after, Matthew burst out laughing while worrying for his dear friend's life.

"So," Katya shuffled into the kitchen, leaning on the edge of the wall, "We have a dinner date with the local pot guy and my crazy sister, I hear."

Matt sighed, "I think she forced Lars into making that call"

"No duh, shitswitch."

"Shitswitch?"

"Yeah, like an on/off switch for your shit."

"What?"

He got up and put his hand around her waist.

"I love you, ya shitswitch," Matt said.

"I love you, too, assknob."

When they got to Jeanne's later that night, all four of our mighty mishap brigadiers were seated at a table by a familiar fellow.

"Francis, what the hell are you doing here," demanded Matt. It wasn't a question.

The local pot guy just looked away as if he was some sort of old flame or one night stand that he never wanted to look at again. (They had quite the sex in their day. It was just that Francis was too whiny for Lars. It was also that Lars was too chlamydia for Francis.)

Francis ignored the pot guy and simply stared at Katya's boobs like a proper waiter. In his very stuffy French accent, he asked everyone what drinks they would like to start off with, and to try the appetizer that didn't sound very appetizing.

The picture on the menu was some sort of green sludge that was supposed to have been invented by the dish guy.

It was delicious, trust him.

After they passed on appetizers (that one in particular) and Natalia somehow forced Lars into getting the same drink as she got, they heard another familiar foreigner walk up to their table, muttering about tax exemptions.

"Arthur?" Matt was not having a very good day.

"Wot? 'Ells Bells, mate, yer hyea wit' yer bloody boyfren' an' some rand'm doiykes, eh?"

"No," said Matt, ignoring his cousin's weird complex with gay people. (Arthur claimed to be straight. Ha, ha.) "This is my girlfriend, Katya, her sister Natalia, and my friend Lars."

"Wo'evah. C'n Ah take yer ordeh?"

He took their order.

With all the queer people he knew, Matt was kind of beginning to doubt his sexuality.

He stared at Kat's boobs for a bit.

Nevermind.

The rest of the meal went by without too many events, although Francis did try to push the slime for dessert again. Except this time, he wouldn't give up.

"Oh, but you must! It is simply the best there is. The man in charge of the dishes and I have shared many a romantic evening while digging into slices of this pie!"

Matt frowned. "I thought you and Arthur were a thing." Apparently he was wrong. Or maybe they just broke up for the ten billionth time since they first got together in Grade Eight.

Francis knelt down to where Matt was sitting, and whispered keenly, "It is simply to make him jealous. You must know this by know that I love to toy with him."

Somehow, Arthur had heard that. "If yeh think yer goonah get any this tayme, yer fuckin' mistak'n, frog-ass whoore."

Arthur was from Northern England. If anyone mistook him for Scottish, he'd have their ass. As a proud Englishman, he would not have his reputation torn to pieces by the assumption that he was Scottish.

Francis, meanwhile a proud Frenchman, had a much more subtle accent. He could put it out in full force though, but that was really only when he was drunk. He had also mastered the North American accent, which he said he used for espionage.

What that espionage actually consisted of will be left up to the imagination.

"How about," began the local pot guy, "if you juggle our menus for thirty seconds successfully, we'll have your pie."

Francis smirked and called a name, and a few long seconds later, a lean, lanky man with nappy black hair flying all about came out of the kitchen. He had a grin on his face that could eat through a person's soul.

This was the dish guy.

The dish guy was briefed on what to do, and took all four menus and spun them around like a Ferris wheel for the allotted time. Natalia looked impressed. Everyone else was still creeped out by his shit-eating grin.

"Okay fine then, four slices of your damn pie," said the local pot guy. He must have known that Francis couldn't juggle.

Arthur served them the pie. "Eef Ah were yew, ah'dnt tooch this stoof. It's feeled wit' ooolll kaynds of mysterious oobleck."

"The hell is oobleck, Artie," asked Matt.

"Ye dun' knou? Eht's froom that book bah Docktah Seuss, Bartholomew an' th' Oobleck. Aint'cha eever read it?"

"Oh, I remember that book! Ivan used to have nightmares every time after I'd read it, but he'd always want to hear it again. That boy…" Katya trailed off and began staring into space, before snorting a few seconds later.

Matt didn't want to ask. The less you knew about Ivan, the better.

They dug into their slices of pie. It was strange tasting, but not too far from cheesecake, although it had a soapy aftertaste. Of course, what else coming from the dish guy? The local pot guy's eyes went wide with his first bite, and he made up an excuse not to eat it.

"Oh, this has meringue in it. I'm allergic," he said as he pushed the plate of pie out of his way. Matt gave him a look that said, _you bastard_. The local pot guy gave him a look back, replying, _listen there's pot in this and you're going to need a designated driver because we were shoehorned into eating this crap, _but the message wasn't received in full. Matt just felt a looming sense of trust in the local pot guy.

Much later, after the pie was eaten and the bill was paid, Natalia, giggling like a little girl, said something that let Lars know that the effects of the pie were kicking in.

"You know what's funny? Ducks. Like, quack and stuff."

"I know, right?" said Matt, pushing his glasses up, "They waddle around and stuff. Haven't they ever thought of evolutioning up some toes?"

Matt tried to get in the drivers' seat, but the pot guy pushed him over to shotgun. "I'm driving. You're high."

"Okay, Mr. Bossypants McBosseroodle XIV."

"I'm high?" asked Katya, staring at her crotch, "Altituuuuuuuuuuuude. Wow, that's a funny word. Altitude."

"Ali- Altititi- Altude."

"Ahahahahaha... Gosh, I love knives. Stabbity stab."

Lars rolled his eyes and fished for the keys in Matt's pants.

"Dude, you comin' on to me or something? Okay, I guess I can dig that."

The local pot guy sighed.

"Hey Matt," said Katya.

"What?" he replied.

The thing Yekaterina Mikhailovna Braginskaya said after then nearly made the local pot guy swerve off the road. He pulled into the parking lot at Matt's apartment, grabbed Matt and Katya, tucked them in, kissed them both goodnight, locked them inside their house and put the keys in the refrigerator, went back out to the car, fished Natalia from the backseat, locked the car door, hailed a cab, got home, tucked Natalia in, cut Belle off from her booze, hopped into bed, and wondered why he wasn't an alcoholic by this point as he drifted off to sleep.

Matt woke up the next morning to a call from the local pot guy.

"What's up Lars?" he asked into the receiver, "And why can't I remember last night?"

"The pie was, er, special," the pot guy clicked his tongue, "So, how are you taking the news now that you're all sobered up?"

"What news?"

"Oh, you don't know. Better not say then. Ask Kat."

"Tell me."

"Nope."

"Lars van Houten, I demand you to tell me."

"The thing is, you should ask her because she was high and that was probably nonsense anyways."

"But what am I asking her?"

Lars told him.

"What!" asked Matt, frightened. "God, I hope that isn't true."

They said their hasty goodbyes and Matt walked over to Katya, who was watching the news. He sat down next to her and muted the TV.

"What's up?" she asked.

"So," began Matt, lifting his glasses up and taking a deep breath, "Lars said you said something last night when we were high off that pie, and I wanted to know if it was true."

"Uh-huh."

"Are you pregnant?"


End file.
